Rusted Blood
by Religion0
Summary: As all soldiers, he was covered in blood. But unlike any soldier, he was cleansed. /One-shot, rated for safety./


**Right… So… I have no idea what to expect from this!**

**I barely own what I consider mine! =D How'd you think I'd own BLEACH? I'm not even a purist!**

His hands and arms, his whole body, actually, was covered in blood.

As was all soldiers.

All killers.

Some people got a perverse pleasure out of seeing the blood on their hands and added to it all the time. Some people became so callous to it their personality changed and they went insane in a way. Some people became terrified of and started hating themselves, they cried bitter tears and had nightmares over the blood.

Gin wasn't any of those people.

He became cleansed, every so often.

When his body seemed covered with rusted blood, like an abandoned carnival, the rain would wash it away.

Rangiku being the rain.

_"Are you all right?"_ she would ask, stroking his hair as she sat in his lap with her legs on either side of his.

He never answered verbally, just looked at her with a sincere expression, before briefly pressing his brow to her chin and resting his hand on her hip.

Then his head would angle in towards her neck, his hand wander down and around as her arms embraced his neck, and her golden hair curtained them with its warm colour…

From there, they would let nature do as it does best.

He was clean with her.

She cleansed him until he glowed with purity.

For she accepted, loved, and took all he would let her and all he wanted her to.

Sure, she knew he had his faults, she could even be annoyed with them, but she could also love them. Because he wanted her to, because they were what made him him, because they were what had made him save her life, because they were him, because he needed her to…

Because they were, after all, a reason why she could cling to his body on cold nights made colder by their awareness of what they were.

Killers and soldiers.

Puppets in an elaborate game.

Ran never understood the game. In a piece of chess, she was a knight or, perhaps, a bishop.

Gin knew the rules, he could influence the game. But he never controlled it. A rook.

That didn't stop them from breaking the rules.

Gin went from black to white, but stayed among the black. To stay clean for as long as possible, to jump into the rain as often as he got the opportunity.

He knew it was time to shed the black, yet he clung to it for as long as he could.

To get rid of the rusted blood.

Then it was her blood on his hands.

Her blood had been on him before, and he'd almost panicked. It had taken a long time for her to explain that it was normal, and that he shouldn't be scared.

This time it was normal, too, but he definitely had reason to be scared. She was, after all, still grinning with blood at her mouth and a traitor's sword through her body.

And she couldn't cleanse him anymore. She couldn't wash away the blood! She couldn't make it go away!

Gin couldn't move. He saw her feral, almost mad, smile, saw her blood drip down her chin, down the length of his zanpaktou, out of her and onto his hands… From there it spread.

Others' blood, her blood, his blood… All coated him, mingled, dried and hindered his movement. Blocked his eyes, made him blind.

Then a warm hand was on his neck, slender fingers played with his hair… And a taste of blood on his tongue.

Gin blinked, surprised to see his dear victim pressing her lips to his…

Then he frantically pulled his zanpaktou from her stomach and pulled dusty memories of healing kidous out of the back of his head and forced them into working on her wound. Heal her!

Blood came on his hands with the contact, dripped onto his arms from being below, but he didn't notice.

He was saving her life. Again. As he should always be doing.

She was sleeping, far from what had been a battlefield for longer than could ever matter. And, unknowingly, cleansing him.

Every breath she took made the blood go away.

Every time her heart beat, he relaxed more and let the blood go away.

**Weird…**

**This was heavily influenced by "Carnival of Rust" by Poets of The Fall. It's addictive.**

**My heavy use of the term "rusted blood" actually makes sense. You all know how there's iron in blood, right? Well, what makes your blood red is actually that the iron has rusted due to the oxygen also in blood. Right… Biological show-off…**

**Please review, and tell me what you liked/disliked. =)**


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